DeCIPHER
by Chaanoua
Summary: Stanford and Fiddleford test the Universe Portal for the first time, and Fiddleford learns a terrible truth. A in-depth re-write of a GF flashback.


Fiddleford was busy checking and re-checking the data for the Universe Portal, ensuring that when it was booted up the dark energy would be properly contained and manipulated to open a wormhole as it was designed to without accidentally creating a black hole or something. Behind him was Ford, standing over a steel desk and jotting down calculations and notes in his leather backed Journal. Ford never trusted computers for this sort of thing, saying that they were vulnerable to be compromised and considering what he was doing in the basement of this large home he'd built could rival anything the current scientists employed by NASA were doing he aimed to keep it as secret as possible. Everything can be destroyed when there's a physical hardcopy to destroy without software shadows.

Fiddleford was concerned about something entirely different though, something about this project made him uneasy. The large inverted triangle made of titanium that hung in place due to the various wires and tubes, plus the magnetic energy vents on the floor that would ensure the circulation of energy was handled properly were quite beautiful pieces of machinery, but they left the middle-aged man feeling quite sick in his stomach. Truly a situation like this was nerve wracking. Fiddleford couldn't help but wonder if this was how the scientists on the Manhattan Project felt when they first prepared to test the nuclear bomb; only the risk of catastrophe was far higher and more significant than damaging the atmosphere. This portal could either open a wormhole, or create a stellar black hole that would destroy the solar system and devour the sun before it can be stopped. Regardless this project had consumed the most of their young adult lives, so it was now or nothing.

"Alright Ford, the preparations are complete. The portal is ready to go." Fiddleford announced, glancing at his partner who was still writing in his journal. The bright tube lamps installed in the ceiling casted a glare on Ford's glasses making eye contact difficult. "Good, good!" Stanford answered, closing the red and gold book as he moved to grab something from the corner of the room.

There were two parts to this experiment, first was opening and sustaining a wormhole, and the second was testing the physical properties and inverted laws of physics inside the portal. In review neither party planned to kill an organic test subject accidentally by sending them to their deaths of the portal turned out to be unstable. Bill had promised Stanford that the portal was quite safe for humans to travel to and from once opened, and Stanford believed his partner even if he was ominous about where this portal led, in retrospect however Fiddleford was untrusting of Stanford and his new and invisible friend, and demanded a test dummy appropriate for the perceived hazard be present. A project was about respect and agreement, compromises came somewhere in the middle; Stanford decided not to be insulted too much by Fiddleford being critical of his assessment, and hummed a tune to himself as he pulled the wheeled rack carrying the car-crash dummy towards the Portal. Around the mannequins waist was a rope, tied as a belt, the intent of the belt was to give the two something to yank the dummy out of the portal with once it had passed through so that they may examine effects on the surface, anything such as obvious warping to radiation that could go unseen had to be ruled out.

The technology used to craft Stanford's Magnus Opus was not human in nature, but salvaged from a crashed alien ship the explorer had located thanks to the help of his triangular partner, harvesting computer components from it –including the warp drive. To be fair, which meant that the portal technically wasn't Stanford or Fiddleford's combined work, rather just a skilled implementation of another specie's work –technicalities were never fun when it came to claims, however.

"A-are you sure this is a good idea, Stanford? I mean… What if we literally destroy our part of the universe with this thing?" Fiddleford inquires, deciding to voice his concerns once more now while he had the chance. This was the twentieth time this week he had cautiously protested such a dangerous experiment without any equivalent to containment structures. If this went wrong they were doomed, a fact Fiddleford wished to remind his eager partner of. Ford wasn't so keen on hiding his irritation with Fiddleford's persistence, and sighed before turning to face his compatriot, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly before speaking.

"Look, this portal took us years to build, years! We can't get those back, and I sacrificed college and even time with my brother for this. It's what I am supposed to do –what we're supposed to do, why else would an omnipotent being choose me to inspire? Perhaps this is how genius is truly born. I could prove the entire world's religions incorrect just by the knowledge I have learned."

The other middle-aged scientist stayed quiet, looking down at the floor as he picked up on the tone of Stanford's response. It was condescending, the way in which the gruffly Stanford would remind him of this so-called universal being guiding them, or the fact he knew what to do with the alien technology to begin with. All he had done himself was build the computer system, placing Stanford in the limelight.

"You're right, let's just power her up…"

Pleased that the bickering was now over, Stanford moved over towards the computer terminal which would activate the portal after he enters some information. For a pair of scientists, the only one who looked the part truthfully was Fiddleford, slim, narrow face adorned with square black glasses and a white lab coat with brown slacks and dress shoes. Stanford on the other hand wore a long tan overcoat with some muted stains near the hem and the collar popped up with one blue pen in the breast pocket, muted blue jeans, and brown work boots. The only thing that perhaps identified him as a white collar was the white button up and the black tie the open overcoat exposed.

With the flick of his fingers, the portal began to activate. The two scientists shared one common trait in these seconds, fear. They knew the consequences if even one number was off by a decimal point, the lights flickering and a loud humming overcoming their senses. A blue light which quickly became nearly blinding erupting from the circular centerpiece of the portal's frame, swirling like a whirlpool whilst electricity rippled through the magnetic chambers, causing the entire town of Gravity falls to lose power except for those that had a backup generator similar to Stanford's. Looking down at the terminal as it began to give the younger Pines twin information, Stanford let a smile cross his face. "It's stabilizing!" He called out with glee, while Fiddleford simply watched in amazement.

"We… We did it…" he'd mutter, almost in disbelief. A tear was creeping up on him, for once Fiddleford had a reason to be proud of himself, he wasn't just a dumb computer guy anymore –they had truly created something that would likely turn humanity into a class III civilization in no-time, this was the discovery of a millennia. The currents of wind the portal made as it tried to draw matter into it caused both of their coats to flap towards it, but the magnetic units would keep the portal from attracting too much gravity which should prevent either of them being yanked into it. "Portal is completely stable, dark energy is contained," Stanford reads aloud, calming down as the portal itself did the same, he wanted to return focus to their experiment. Part one was complete, but part two was still at hand.

"Now for the second part, we're going to toss this test dummy in there and pull it back out after about five minutes. If anything horrible happens to it, we can examine so after. Fiddleford, are you ready?" Stanford goaded, trying to get his partner's attention back on actually testing the portals effects than being awestruck simply by its visage. Shaking his head to snap out of the day dream Fiddleford went over to the dummy alongside Stanford, nervously chuckling. "Aw, sorry Ford, just surprised is all." He apologizes, slipping an arm under the test dummy's shoulder while Stanford does the same –together lifting the mannequin from its rack. Even if the two had quarreled and disagreed up to this point, neither side felt any hard feelings with the other, at the end of the day it was truly the kinship of being intelligent dreamers aspiring to better the world that kept them together, besides overdosing on caffeine and sometimes drinking more alcohol they should on frustrating nights. Carefully the two men began to hand the dummy off into the portal, its forces managing to pull it gently into its energy when the dummy was close enough.

Then a sudden surprised yelp erupted, and the scrambling of Stanford to catch his friend by the leg followed. The belt of the dummy had wrapped around the bottom of Fiddleford's leg, and was now dragging him inside the wormhole along with the crash dummy. The screams of panic were louder than the hum of the machine, until finally Fiddleford's head disappeared within the whirling white energies.

"I-I got you buddy!" Stanford yelled, holding onto the rope now to try and save Fiddleford from his uncertain fate should he pass through the portal entirely, angry beams of energy spiked off the surface of the whirlpool, striking at the ground, the table, and Stanford's feet –splitting the steel table and the concrete flooring into shards with each blow. Loud beeping came from the console, indicating the portal had begun to lose stability and could collapse.

Darkness, a void of stars, nebulas, these were the visions that Fiddleford was greeted with, a calm serenity of space and the universe. Somehow he was still breathing, though he couldn't tell, his fight or flight instinct activating immediately as he tries to collect his panicking mind. Space and time were being bent around him, and everything he looked at sported strong gravitational lensing.

"q̶ɥ̶u̶u̶u̶ɥ̶n̶n̶ǝ̶ظ̶ɥ̶ǝ̶ظ̶n̶n̶ɹ̶ɔ̶ɹ̶n̶ɔ̶ɟ̶q̶ɹ̶u̶ʎ̶ǝ̶ɥ̶ǝ̶ɥ̶ɥ̶ǝ̶ɥ̶"

What?

Throbbing, horrible pain erupted all over the man's body, as if a serious cluster migraine was causing blood vessels to pop in his cranium. Visions started to appear as his sight faded to blackness, garbled voices raping his hearing, violating his mind. Fires, people running in fear, the sky dark red, and a rip with a shimmering orange surface like a calm lake in the horizon, death and destruction. Blood reaching up towards the sky into dark black clouds.

"W-what the hell is this?"

"o̶o̶p̶ǝ̶ǝ̶ظ̶ɟ̶ɥ̶ǝ̶ظ̶ɥ̶p̶ظ̶u̶ǝ̶ظ̶u̶ظ̶q̶q̶p̶ظ̶p̶ǝ̶ǝ̶x̶q̶ɥ̶ǝ̶ɥ̶"

Was this real, was this happening? Was he witnessing the events of another planet, or a dimension, perhaps a parallel universe? He could make out landmarks, such as the water tower which was stomping around in the distance, and the railroad bridge in the far background connecting two cliffs like a large arch over the town –this was Gravity Falls.

Eyes, terrible eyes. They were there, surrounding him, like a dark glove to a hand that was now forming a fist. Laughter, high pitched and ethereal, sulfur flooding his nostrils. The people began to melt, their last expressions horrifying, and other people began to turn to agonized statues. Out of all the clouds of eyes surrounding Fiddleford, one grew to be the largest, it's reptilian like pupil growing to a huge proportion and then thinning as it focused on the hapless scientist.

˙̶"Z̶Ǝ̶q̶ſ̶ ̶ɹ̶∩̶פ̶ ̶˥̶O̶ ̶∀̶q̶ ̶Q̶ɹ̶פ̶Ⅎ̶N̶ɹ̶S̶ ̶ɹ̶O̶ ̶⅄̶⅄̶N̶∩̶Ⅎ̶ ̶פ̶Λ̶ ̶Q̶∀̶N̶ ̶Z̶Ǝ̶Λ̶H̶p̶Ⅎ̶ ̶⅄̶⅄̶Λ̶ſ̶ ̶Q̶⅄̶Ǝ̶q̶ſ̶ ̶⅄̶N̶פ̶Ǝ̶q̶Z̶ ̶Ǝ̶H̶q̶˥̶ ̶ſ̶N̶⅄̶S̶ ̶N̶ ̶פ̶H̶q̶∩̶פ̶Λ̶ſ̶ ̶┴̶∀̶Λ̶ɹ̶O̶ ̶ɹ̶∩̶פ̶ ̶Z̶N̶ ̶Λ̶ ̶Ⅎ̶ſ̶N̶⅄̶ ̶q̶∀̶ ̶ɹ̶O̶ ̶⅄̶⅄̶N̶∩̶Ⅎ̶ ̶ɹ̶Ǝ̶ɹ̶∩̶פ̶ ̶∀̶Λ̶N̶Z̶q̶Q̶ ̶˥̶Z̶ ̶∀̶Λ̶ ̶┴̶∀̶Λ̶Q̶ɹ̶ɹ̶⅄̶O̶ ̶Q̶∀̶N̶ ̶∀̶Ǝ̶q̶פ̶ ̶ſ̶q̶∀̶ ̶˥̶פ̶Λ̶⅄̶N̶ɹ̶Ǝ̶ ̶┴̶∀̶Λ̶I̶N̶ɹ̶⅄̶ ̶Ǝ̶ɹ̶I̶ɹ̶∀̶ ̶┴̶∀̶Λ̶Z̶q̶Ԁ̶ ̶Ⅎ̶˥̶N̶ſ̶⅄̶N̶"

Everything began to fade to black again, as it had before, bringing with it a sensation of tiredness, but it brought no sleep. Suddenly there was a floor, a grungy dark green with barren walls accompanying it, forming a small box around him with only a plain wooden table in the center and a basic light on the ceiling giving him the ability to see. Across the table was a chair in which a shadowy being sat.

"W-who are you?!" Fiddleford demanded, sweat dripping down his forehead, eyes shaking like camera shutters.

"Woah whoa whoa, smart guy." The figure replied, leaning in and suddenly gaining shape identical to Fiddleford himself, though his eyes were anything but human, rather the same type of slits he had witnessed prior during the torment upon his brain. "You look like you need to relax," the doppelganger would reply, pulling the drawer to his table that faced him and procuring a pair of scissors, a grin spreading on his lips.

"What the hell? How do you look like me and," with a swallow, Fiddleford continues, "w-what are you intending to do with those?"

His clone sat there for a few seconds, holding the pair of scissors in his fist, smiling back at the tormented and disoriented human before him. With the stretching of his cheeks further, he plunged the scissors in their closed position right into his own eye socket, causing blood to splatter across the table, standing up and jumping over the furniture to aggressively grab the now petrified Fiddleford by his collar, looking down upon him and causing blood to drip onto his pale skin.

"What… are you…?" he choked, eyes darting from the ruptured eye still impaled by scissors to the blood darting down his aggressor's cheeks like tears. With the sinister expression never fading, the only answer Fiddleford would get in return was a simple statement:

"You just need to relax."

"Fiddleford! Fiddleford wake up!" Stanford demanded, attempting chest compressions on his presumed dead friend, tears streaming down the 30-something year old's cheeks. Internally Stanford was praying to whatever deity currently existing to help him, if Fiddleford was dead he'd never forgive himself. It was his portal! He should've listened! Now the only friend he had was de-

"Xqq⅄ פ,∀qQ Xqq⅄ פ,∀qQ Xqq⅄ פ,∀qQ ˙ɹ⅄┴∀NΛƎפ 'Ǝɹ∩ƆΛԀ ⅄⅄ΛO!" Erupted from Fiddleford's mouth as he shot up in a panic, a thin layer of cold sweat still remaining on his skin, shaking and twitching as the shock to his nervous system was still going through its last phases. Stanford pulls back, surprised and stunned at the fact his partner survived but was now speaking some sort of language that should be impossible for humans, well, it sounded more like garbled speech than a language, but Stanford was a perceptive man.

"Fiddleford…? Are you alright? What did you see?" Stanford pressed, bringing fingers to his mouth to nail bite on instinct, attempting to calm himself. "Are you okay?"

"When Gravity Falls and Earth become just sky,  
Fear the demon with one eye…"Shaking off the effects of the portal and visions he'd seen, Fiddleford turned back to see his partner kneeling a few feet away biting his nails anxiously, and frowned. Stanford was quite perplexed by the phrase his fellow man just blurted, considering there was only one being Stanford himself knew of with one eye… But what did Bill have to do with this? "Fiddleford, get a hold of yourself, you aren't making sense!" Stanford commanded, wanting answers to his questions to be put forth.

"This Portal will destroy the world, this machine is dangerous…" Fiddleford declared with certainty, pushing himself back from the man he now deemed to no longer be a friend, but a pawn. A stupid pawn, as it turned out Stanford's little "muse" was indeed real and Stanford's claims as to the origins of the plans for the portal were now proofed, but the revelation he was privy to also gave an important detail to the subject –Bill Cipher was not a friend, nor had he ever been.

"Fiddleford what are you talking about?" Stanford wheezed, noticing the disdain in Fiddleford's eyes for him, as well as the sheer terror, every part of the traumatized male's body language shouted urgency and adrenaline. Attempting to calm him, Stanford reached for his shoulder, only for his hand to be smacked away and Fiddleford to force himself up, staggering backwards. "Don't talk to me, now I see what you truly are… You're such an idiot… We have to destroy it right now, for I fear we might have unleashed a power on the world I'd rather not remember the details of. If you had seen what I saw just now, you'd know why."

Stanford was quick to protest the suggestion, which seemed insane to him. What could Fiddleford have seen during his twenty seconds of being partially submerged in the wormhole? What power was he speaking of? Stanford knew Bill had the answers, but he was in no position to meditate to contact him in his mindscape currently, but fishing answers out of his partner seemed to be just as fruitless.

"I can't destroy it, this is my life's work."

Without hesitation, though with a somber tone, Fiddleford took a deep breath and then turned away from his old partner, making his way for the stairs as fast as he could and with great rush to every footstep. "I quit, I won't be a part of this anymore. It's time you learn on your own just what you've become a puppet to, don't contact me anymore. Your friend will know why."

The door slammed behind him, leaving the lone Pine twin on his knees, the blue glowing of the whirlpool casting a tint on him. Tears were welling up, his heart was throbbing, his best friend had just walked out on him, and according to Fiddleford's last words, and it was the fault of his recent director. Even if he was angry, the other man was too good-natured to tell a lie, but the expression of potent terror on his face… That couldn't be faked, not even by the best actor in Holly Wood.

Time to confront Bill.

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End file.
